


The Adventures of Rae Lavellan

by oOoElvenGloryoOo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOoElvenGloryoOo/pseuds/oOoElvenGloryoOo
Summary: Rae Lavellan, a real comrade, is having none of this Herald crap and is pretty tired of shemlen nonsense.





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Rae Lavellan and I fucking loved being Dalish. You never really appreciate what you have til it's gone, isn't that the cliche? Considering a simple observation of shemlen nonsense ended in everyone wanting to kill me, then deciding I'm the chosen one but still wanting to kill me, my old life certainly felt gone for good.

My full name, which no one should be rude enough to use, is Raevanna. But Raevanna sounds like the kind of girl that writes broody poetry and makes an entire personality out of liking the color black and having insomnia, so I go by Rae and have since I was little.

I'm a hunter, which you might think is an odd pastime for a mage, but the vallaslin of June isn't on my face just for show. I make things, beautiful, useful things, and that means I need skins. Skins, metal, herbs, and stones, so I spend a lot of time outside. And sure, I got a little shit for hunting with magic, but I also never had to work around a poorly aimed arrow wound on a skin or waste meat due to a messy cut from a blade.

That's where life leaves me today. Battling a druffalo just outside of this Haven place, because fuck if that hide isn't warm and cozy and perfect for the disgusting amount of snow here. I mean, I had to wear boots because of this snow. On my good feet. How dare. They were hampering my ability to move silently to get the upper hand on starting to take this fucker down and steal it's skin.

Twenty minutes later, and with several bruises to my person, I was humming to myself while butchering my prey. "Pity you didn't use a fire spell, roast meat would be good right now, wouldn't it?"

I looked up, relived to see the fellow apostate elf and not another shemlen with a sword. "You're a mage, you know that wouldn't work" I replied.

He reached down, offering a loosely wrapped package as a gift. "I noticed your boots made your steps noisy. These should help, and they're enchanted to prevent frostbite and keep you warm". I untied the twine, and found the gift was a pair of footwraps, surprisingly pretty, made out of delicate pink silk with pale blue and mint green floral embroidery. "I don't know what to say. They're lovely." I immediately ditched the boots in favor of the thoughtful present. "Thank you."

I looked up, a dumb smile plastered on my face, cheeks surely ruddy from the chill bite of the wind. "Do you always follow girls into the woods to bring them gifts?" He chuckled "You'd be surprised. I mean, no. That sounds.....I just. I wanted you to feel welcome. Here, I'll help you wrap the meat and carry it back." He seems embarrassed and frazzled. Good. That's how I like my men.

He got right to work, packing up the meat with the ease of someone who'd done it for years. "You're as efficient as a Dalish hunter, Solas." He smiled at the compliment. "You'll find me to be quite useful. Maybe even more useful than the Dalish." Ah yes, his opinion on the Dalish had been made quite clear during our first meeting.

"It makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it? Being an elf, here?" he asked, his tone said he was as uncomfortable here as I was.

"I fucking hate it. Like today, I decided I wanted to hunt. I had the freedom to just go do that. You wanted to follow me, so you did. Hell, you had access to silk ! Do you think the elf that dumps the shit out of my chamber pot every morning can just run off into the woods for a bit of sport? Do you think the kitchen maid, the one the men call rabbit while grabbing her ass, do you think she'll spend the day doing her favorite hobby in silken footwraps? I tried to tell my chamber maid she didn't have to pick up after me, and I could empty my own shit, thank you very much, and she fucking cried. Said if she didn't do her job, she might get sent back to an alienage, which trust me, is worse than dumping shit into the shit hole and mopping floors."

"Yes, you mentioned your clan had quite a bit of contact with humans. You can tell from all the swearing. You've been to an alienage then?". His curiosity seemed genuine.

"A few times, but none as memorable as the first. There was a little boy, all skin and bones. No parents around, it was obvious he'd not seen a bath in ages. He cried and cried, and I gave him some food from my pack. A guard kicked it out of his hands, and then tried to kick me too, until the keeper showed him the trade permit and reminded him the Dalish make a fine enemy. The food laid there getting covered in ants and dirt, and I don't want to think of where they took the boy. When we left, we passed a restaurant, full of people, eating meat pies and cheeses and good white bread." She imitated the voice of her keeper "Remember, da'len. Don't be so distracted by the symptoms that you fail to see the disease". She mimed pointing at the restaurant full of humans.

"And just to be clear, they meant wealth inequality was the disease, not shemlen. Shemlen are just particularly good at watching others suffer while they shovel steak in their face and taking food from starving children." She furrowed her brow and readjusted her load of hides as they walked back to Haven proper.

"Don't forget the slavery. Your keeper sounds wiser than many. Remember, though, that none of us are immune from that disease, not even the elves." They'd reached Haven, and had to split ways, him taking the meat up to the tavern and kitchens, and her taking the hides down to the smithy. "We'll speak more later, then" she called after him, waving with her free hand.


	2. The Herald Of Andraste Doesn't Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera tries to help Rae in a very Sera-y way and things get awkward. I have no idea why my brain thought of this, or why I felt the need to write it down, but here it is.

Rae pried her eyes open at 4 am, and the memories of the previous night rushed back. She remembered Sera's drunken grin upon seeing her enter the tavern. She remembered the first glass of mead, and the second, the third, the seventh. "You're not bad for someone so elfy" she'd chuckled. "And you're not bad for someone so...." Rae's response had trailed off, as a proper insult escaped her. The conversation ended up turning political, as drunken conversations often do, and Rae divulged how uncomfortable she was with the elven servants still used at Haven.

Eventually, a solution of sorts was agreed upon. The Herald of Andraste Doesn't Shit. She doesn't shit, and her servant gets to rest, cause after all, well, the herald of andraste doesn't shit. No more awkward eye contact while one of the people carries away a bucket of dung. This plan was stupid, in hindsight, as literally everyone else in Haven does shit, and isn't willing to skulk out of their room early to take care of their own business. Regardless, Sera had jumped up on the table, a mug in each hand, and yelled "THE HERALD OF ANDRASTE DOESN'T SHIT. NOT A SINGLE TURD HAS SHE SHAT, THANK THE MAKER OR WHATEVER."

Things screamed from atop tables in crowded taverns tend to circulate quickly, and now, Rae was awake and hung over at 4 am because, well, the Herald doesn't shit, does she? Taking the chamber pot in hand, she shuffled to the door, still in pajamas, with a thick robe to blunt the chill wind. She emptied the pot into the pit they used for such things, and cleaned it thoroughly, before sneaking quietly back to her quarters. She crawled into bed just minutes before the servant arrived.. She heard her gasp at the clean, shiny chamber pot and mutter "It's true" under her breath. Rae had left a small breakfast with a thank you note, and a generous tip on the desk. When she was finally alone, she was pleased to notice the food had been eaten and the tip was gone.

The knock on the door startled her, waking her up better than a cup of strong coffee. It was Solas, bowl of soup in hand. "I...." he paused. "I thought you might be in need of this. Bean and barley soup.. It's um, quite rich in fiber, good for the uh, digestion. Someone mentioned you were, well, this should help, anyway."

The cute elf apostate thinks she's constipated. She mentally canceled any hope of seducing him, and accepted the bowl. "Thank you" she stammered.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I will leave you to it then. Enjoy your..." He gestured at the soup, and then the chamber pot, ending with his entire face blushing red, before he turned abruptly and left.

As humiliating as that entire encounter was, the next morning he had also risen before the sun, and walked beside her in silence. She assumed he'd picked up on what she was actually up to. They emptied and cleaned their pots, and walked silently back. It became a habit after the first week. The silence had evolved to "Good morning" when their paths met. One day, he'd blurted out something about Sera and misunderstanding, and she said something she hoped would smooth things over, and that was that. They spent the rest of their early walks enjoying the sounds of the surrounding forest slowly waking up.

Every so often, Sera would remember about the thing, and come running behind, somehow still loud despite trying to go unnoticed. She'd have her arms full of pots, and to her credit, emptied and cleaned them all. As impressed as Rae might be with her efforts, she was always grateful for the days it was just the two of them.

The rumor evolved, as rumors do. Soon you'd hear the humans saying "Knife Ears Don't Shit". The dwarves were a bit more creative. "If You Sleep With The Herald,You Never Shit Again" based on the other rumor that she indeed was having regular dick appointments with her fellow apostate. Sometimes they switched to "Someone Is Stealing Our Shit", usually congruent with those days Sera tagged along. The servants, however, stopped their gossip, and their pockets always jingled with a bit of money. It didn't solve the problem. Drunken ideas rarely solve anything for good. But it certainly added a bit of spice to the talk around Haven, and improved the quality of life for her fellow elves just a bit. 

The rumors made Josie too embarrassed to even talk about, and so that was it. The gossip remained until it grew boring. But the Herald of Andraste Doesn't Shit, even to this day.


End file.
